


I'm Smart Enough to Recognize a Bad Idea

by runthegamut (orphan_account)



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-09
Updated: 2008-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-05 08:35:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/runthegamut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the Warped Tour 2005, Pete is with Mikey.  Patrick does a bad job of ignoring it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Smart Enough to Recognize a Bad Idea

Their affair started up pretty much as soon as the tour began. The members of Fall Out Boy knew the guys in My Chemical Romance from the year before, of course, so it wasn’t that weird that Mikey and Pete were hanging out almost immediately. And the fact that it was “something more” than just hanging out was evident to everyone, even if they hadn’t caught Pete and Mikey in the act. Patrick, unfortunately, had.

The first two times were innocuous enough. Pete and Mikey were sitting huddled together on a hill when Patrick came across them after a lengthy search for Pete. He’d walked up from behind and called Pete’s name, not noticing until Pete turned that they had been doing more than talking. Pete’s lips were red and swollen and his eyes were glazed and distant. Mikey’s hand came up to cover his neck and Patrick didn’t need any more information to figure it out.

The second time, Patrick had stumbled out of his bunk late at night to use the bathroom and as he was standing there in boxers and a t-shirt, patting over his mattress to find his glasses, he turned and saw a blob on the couch in the lounge. It wasn’t unusual for Pete to be up at all hours, but as Patrick shoved his glasses up his nose, he noticed Mikey there, straddling Pete’s thighs. They were so caught up in their make-out session that they didn’t notice or didn’t care that someone else was awake. Patrick hurried to the bathroom and made sure to remove his glasses before exiting, crawling into the bunk and trying not to pay attention to the soft noises he was now aware were coming from the front of the bus.

The third time was the one he tried not to dwell on. He’d returned to the bus unexpectedly one evening to fetch a copy of a BPRD comic he had been talking to Gerard about and had seen enough flash of skin to cause him to whip around and high tail it back out of there. After spending some time leaned against the side of the TAI bus, red faced and stunned, Patrick found Gerard and told him he had lost the comic. It was better than explaining to Gerard what he’d just seen his younger brother doing, Patrick figured.

That was the first week of the tour. After that, Patrick tried to steel himself.

***

All things being relative, Patrick was generally considered by those on tour to be a morning person. Not that he woke up that early compared to the rest of the civilized world, but he didn’t keep as late hours as, say, Pete or Joe did. Andy woke up earlier than Patrick, but since Patrick was up before noon, he was still labeled an early riser.

This particular morning Patrick was up a little earlier than others. He’d had a tumultuous night of sleep, vivid dreams of wet mouths and calloused hands on sensitive skin leaving him achingly hard when he awakened to the clatter of metal hitting the hard floor and Andy’s muffled curse. Patrick slipped his hand into the waistband of his boxers, fingers brushing against coarse hair as he contemplated finishing himself off. He deciding against it, knowing he couldn’t relax completely if Andy was up and moving about with only a thin layer of fabric separating them.

Patrick waited until the dull ache in his gut subsided before getting up and walking to the front of the bus, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. As he reached into the opened box of Froot Loops sitting on the counter to help himself to a handful, he noticed a familiar pair of black frames resting on top of a grayish beanie at the end of the couch. Patrick’s throat went dry as he tried to swallow and he abruptly set down the cereal box to dig through the mini-refrigerator for a bottle of water.

Taking a gulp, Patrick squeezed his eyes shut and turned to lean against the counter. He opened his eyes to find Andy hovering over a bowl of soymilk-laden cereal, watching. “You alright?” Andy wondered.

“Yeah, yeah. Throat’s a little scratchy,” Patrick replied, wincing as he brought the pads of his fingers against his neck. “Just needed a drink.”

Andy nodded and turned his attention back to the comic that sat open next to him. Patrick grabbed the cereal box and made his way to the opposite end of the couch, sitting down as far from Mikey’s belongings as possible.

***

The hours leading up to their scheduled start time were always filled with nervous energy and before putting on his game face, Patrick found it helped to blow off a little tension. Hackey sack proved good for this as it allowed him to focus and move around; he got to laugh, got to hurl insults at his friends, so it was a win all the way around.

Standing in a small cluster outside their bus, Patrick watched the hacky sack bounce from Andy’s heel to Joe, who caught it in the crook of his foot before bouncing it a couple times and kicking it to Patrick. The shot was off and Patrick lunged to his right, the toe of his shoe catching it before it dropped into the dirt.

“Someone’s reflexes are going in their old age,” Joe teased and Patrick laughed, shaking his head.

“That or it was a shitty pass,” Patrick retorted with a grin, setting his feet on either side of the small ball before hopping slightly to launch it back at Joe. His eyes lifted and he noticed Mikey standing at the front of the bus, peering hesitantly around the corner as he watched them. Patrick’s smile promptly disappeared, face going serious as he redirected his attention to the game.

When Joe sent the hacky sack flying in his direction, another unwieldy pass, Patrick made a leap to the side to hit it with the instep of his foot. He bounced it a few times before kicking it to Andy.

“Nice save,” Andy grinned as he jostled the ball increasingly higher with each kick.

Patrick nodded and lifted his head again to look toward the front of the bus, but no one was there.

***

“No, I’m so fucking good at this,” Mikey boasted, the teasing evident in his voice as his eyes remained fixed on the screen. Patrick knew he was smiling without looking. He’d witnessed this behavior enough by now.

“Dude, I own your ass,” Pete smirked back, biting his lip as he moved his body to match the movements of the avatar on the screen, video controller firmly in hand.

Patrick kept his eyes down, focused on his laptop. He exhaled the deep breath he’d been holding and hit the save button before snapping the computer shut and heading back to his bunk for a nap. He had a headache, probably from looking at the screen too long, he decided.

Mikey diverted his attention from the game and turned his head to watch as Patrick went, a curious eyebrow raised. Patrick refused to look back.

***

Pete’s smile was wide and relaxed, the sun reflecting off his teeth. “I was thinking about trying to get into town today, hit up a record store,” he informed Patrick on one of their rare days off.

“Awesome,” Patrick nodded, smiling back. He hadn’t been away from the tour in weeks and he couldn’t resist the possibility he might find an obscure album in a local indie store. “What time?”

Pete shrugged. “Mikey has some shit going on, so probably not til like 4 or so.”

Patrick hesitated, looking away into the distance. “Oh.” He chewed on his lower lip, rocking back and forth on his feet. “Uh, yeah. I just remembered Mark wanted me to take a listen to the new album before it released. I’m pretty sure he said this afternoon would work best for him. So…”

Pete grimaced in confusion, his brow furrowing. “You sure, man?” he questioned.

Patrick nodded quickly. “Yeah, yeah. They’ve got a song on it called ‘Patrick.’” He managed a chuckle that died out quickly as he averted his eyes from Pete, still nodding.

Pete looked uncertain as he stared back at Patrick. “Yeah, okay,” he replied. “Maybe next time?”

“Next time, sure,” Patrick agreed, his voice noncommittal.

***

“This seat taken?” a familiar voice asked as a plate was set down across from Patrick. Jerking his head up, Patrick squinted to see Mikey, whose eyes were obscured by sunglasses.

Patrick swallowed the bite of his sandwich he had been chewing and glanced back down to his plate to assess how much food he had left. “Yeah. I mean, no. Sure, you can sit there.” His voice was flat as he looked around to find Pete, who was surely nearby. As if on cue, Pete materialized and dropped down to the bench next to Mikey’s plate, not bothering to ask before sitting. Mikey stood still another moment before joining him.

Folding over the last bit of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, Patrick popped it in his mouth and chewed quickly to finish it, grabbing his cup and downing the rest of his drink. He stood from the table, an uncomfortable smile in place as he looked back at the pair. “Catch you later,” he said a little too loudly, grabbing the disposable place setting and heading off to find the garbage.

***

Patrick sat slumped back in a cheap plastic lawn chair, a disposable Champaign flute filled with pinot noir balanced on one knee as the last sunlight dwindled. “Wine tastings are sophisticated,” Shawn had assured him the first Thursday The Matches had held the event and Patrick had tried to repress a smile because Shawn had been wearing what appeared to be gold lamee while talking about being sophisticated. This evening, Patrick felt anything but sophisticated. He felt pretty buzzed, actually. It was sort of the point of the weekly wine tastings.

Patrick had taken to attending regularly as it was a chance to get out of the bus, mingle with the other bands, and unwind. He was ‘legal’ now, having reached his twenty-first birthday a few months earlier. Not that it mattered to anyone on the tour. If you could endure the daily grind, you were allowed to have a glass of wine or beer or liquor. Or whatever other substances you could get your hands on. Exhibit A, a not-quite-twenty-one-year-old Joe Trohman, was sitting on Patrick’s left, a little drunk and a whole lot stoned.

Patrick blinked his heavy-lidded eyes slowly and stared off at Shawn who was trying to fight evil with two wide, shallow wicker baskets strapped on either side of his body and bound with the police line tape they used to keep crowds at bay. He’d poked two holes out of another piece of tape and fitted it under his glasses. A poor man’s Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle, Shawn used two water bottles attached to a nylon rope in place of real nun chucks. _Ninja Turtles are funny,_ Patrick thought.

He turned to Joe, who was staring off in the distance as well, mouth half open, eyes glazed and unfocused on anything. “Ninja Turtles are funny,” Patrick said in a disembodied voice. He watched as the corners of Joe’s mouth curled up, followed by a belated giggle. As Joe pitched forward a moment later, head between his knees, his laughter bubbling up into riotous snorts as his shoulders shook. _Yeah, Joe’s stoned,_ Patrick thought, but it didn’t stop him from giggling along with the guitarist. Laughter was infectious, especially with the aid of mind-altering substances.

“Stump,” he heard in the distance as the laughter died out, and he craned his neck up to figure out who was calling him. Seeing Travis ambling toward him, Patrick relaxed back into the chair and finished the rest of his drink.

“Hey man,” Travis grinned, obviously a bit wasted too. He clapped Patrick’s free hand in his before engulfing it completely with his other hand. Travis was bent down, his face near enough to Patrick’s that Patrick could smell the booze and weed on his breath. “Hey, where’s Pete?”

Patrick furrowed his brow and looked around slowly, confused. Pete had just been there, hadn’t he? “Hey, where’s Pete?” Patrick repeated to Joe.

“Pete?” Joe reached up to scratch his head and he repeated the name, “Pete, Pete, Pete,” as though he was tying to remember where Pete was or maybe _who_ Pete was. Patrick couldn’t be sure.

“He’s probably back at the bus, man,” Patrick ventured, giving a nod off in the direction he was pretty sure their bus was parked. Pretty sure--not positive--because everything was slightly cloudy at the moment.

Releasing his grip on Patrick and standing up straight, Travis towered over him. He wiped one hand over his confused countenance, looking in turns put out and distraught. “Oh, shit,” he said slowly and Patrick had a vague feeling he was about to be dispatched to locate his bassist. “Patrick, man, can you go find your guy? We need him and I don’t want to go onto your bus unannounced. You know, since I don’t like actually live on it.”

Patrick sighed, somewhat exasperated. He wasn’t Pete’s keeper and he didn’t want to happen across Pete’s ‘interactions’ with Mikey any more than anyone else did. “Dude, did you try to text him? His Sidekick’s always—“

“No go,” Travis cut him off, shaking his head. “I called him, sent texts. Battery must be dead or… some shit.” Travis studied Patrick a long moment with sad eyes and Patrick was pretty sure he was pouting. “It’s important, man. Label shit.”

Patrick raised a weary hand to his head before pushing his empty glass into Travis’s hand and staggering to his feet. “Fine, fine, I’ll find him,” he mumbled, waving at Joe who was still chanting “Pete, Pete, Pete” silently. “Be right back. Hopefully.”

Patrick moved through the field with an uneven gait. The maze of Warped Tour busses was like a mini-city and Patrick had to keep landmarks in mind to find his way from one end of to the other without getting lost. He could recognize certain band’s busses and had a rough map sketched out in his mind of how to get back to his own from there. The sun was down though, and it made for a dubious walk when slightly wasted. His limbs felt sluggish and heavy, and it took some concentration to make his movements coordinated. Patrick was somewhat aware that he was lifting his knees too high as he walked and that he probably looked slightly ridiculous.

As he approached their bus, he saw movement, people, and he was about to call out Pete’s name when his eyes made the adjustment to the dimmer light. Pete was leaning up against the side of the bus, Mikey Way pinned underneath him. _Oh. This again_ , he thought. Patrick felt the mirth drain from his body as he stood awkwardly about ten feet back and tried to get his “uncaring face” in place.

Taking a deep breath, Patrick cleared his throat to alert them of his presence. He wasn’t sure what they were doing, couldn’t bring himself to look, but he had a pretty good theory that was supported by the fact that neither of them had apparently noticed his presence in the vicinity. Head turned away and blank expression firmly in place, Patrick heard rustling noises and Pete’s voice hissing “shit,” and Patrick really, really wished Joe had been in any kind of condition to do this instead of him. But when it was Pete people were looking for, they always came to Patrick.

“Patrick,” Pete sang a moment later, making his best attempt to be casual as well, and Patrick took that as permission to look back to the two men. Pete was turned away from the bus now and his hands were shoved in his back pocket as Mikey chewed his thumb nervously. “Hey, buddy. How are things going down at the wine thing? We just came back here so I could show Mikey this—“

“Travie’s looking for you,” Patrick cut in, his voice sounding equal parts annoyed and bored as he looked back in the direction he’d just come from. He couldn’t look at them, not right then.

“Oh fuck,” Pete muttered and took a few steps toward Patrick. “I’ve got to… I’m sorry, man,” he said to Mikey over his shoulder. “Catch up later?” Without waiting for an answer, he turned forward and quickly made off.

As Pete went jogging past, Patrick turned to make his way toward the bus. He paused for a moment despite the slight burning sensation in his stomach that told him not to, that told him to get away from Mikey. His body acted on its own accord, however, and Patrick found himself watching as Mikey looked from the ground up to Patrick’s face, thumb still lodged in one corner of his mouth. Patrick roughly shoved his fists in the pockets of his hoodie and forced his legs to move him toward the bus door.

“Hey,” he heard Mikey’s soft voice say and Patrick slowed to a halt, raising his head to the sky and sighing sharply. He turned his head to give Mikey a bored stare.

“Hey,” Patrick replied, trying to keep his voice even and devoid of emotion. He couldn’t suppress his eyeroll.

Mikey stared at Patrick, lowering his hand to his side and slipping his chewed thumb through a belt loop of his jeans--jeans that were far too tight and far too low on his hips. Patrick felt a little queasy. “I’ll go back to the wine tasting,” Mikey said quietly as he started moving slowly toward Patrick. “Um. You can tell Pete if he comes looking for me. If you want.” Mikey’s eyes were trained on the ground and Patrick’s stomach was twisting hard now.

Patrick gave a half nod and turned his head back toward the bus door but the rest of his body still wasn’t cooperating with him, his feet still firmly rooted as Mikey moved closer. Patrick opened his mouth to say something when Mikey stopped next to him.

“It’s just a summer thing,” Mikey started to explain. “It’s not… We aren’t…” Patrick was grateful for the night sky as he felt his cheeks burn. He kept his eyes steady on the door, but he blinked furiously now.

“Yeah, okay, whatever,” Patrick muttered. “I don’t really care.” Mikey stood another moment looking at him as though he was trying to discern something and then left.

Hearing Mikey shuffle off, Patrick wanted to say something but the words caught in his throat. He knew what Mikey must have been thinking because it was the same thing everyone thought. And sure, Pete kissed him on stage but it didn’t mean anything, not to Pete, not to Patrick. Patrick wasn’t in love with Pete.

He turned and watched Mikey’s back disappear from view, his mouth half opened, debate ongoing in his head. He knew he couldn’t say anything though, knew he couldn’t explain himself. If he told Mikey that he didn’t hate him, that he wasn’t jealous, then he’d have to explain why he was acting strange. And explaining why he was acting strange meant having to tell Mikey that he thought Mikey was lovely, that he was beautiful, that Patrick thought about him all the time. And telling your bandmate’s—your _best friend’s_ boyfriend that you’re in love with him is a good idea in exactly nobody’s book.

Patrick turned back toward the bus and punched in the code, wearily climbing the stairs, his hand firmly gripping the railing. He no longer felt like socializing. His head was clearing quickly and clouding over at the same time. He needed to sit for a while, forget about Mikey and Pete and the month he had left of being uncomfortable around them.

Slumping down to the bench in the front lounge, Patrick pulled his Macbook Pro onto his lap and flipped the screen up. He brought a hand up to his forehead and squeezed his temples, trying to wipe away the image of Mikey that lingered in his mind. He could lose himself in Garageband, he knew. He often did. There was a song he was working on anyway, so really, this was all going to work out for the best, he decided.

Hours later, the wine having worked its way out of his system, Patrick found himself seated in the same position. He kept his head down, eyes trained on his laptop screen as he heard the door to the bus slide open. It was getting fairly late so he wasn’t too surprised or even too interested in which of his band mates has decided to call it a night.

There was no greeting as footsteps sounded on the stairs into the main lounge, but the other guys knew how he was when he was working, knew what his serious face looked like. He didn’t even bother to glance up, his fingers moving furiously over the keys. It wasn’t until someone was physically taking his laptop away from him that lifted his head from the screen.

“Hey! I was—“ His protestation was cut short when he saw Mikey standing over him and the shock of it prevented him from wresting the computer away again. Patrick immediately looked behind Mikey, looked to the side for Pete. He didn’t find him though, and it appeared that Mikey was alone. Mikey would know the bus code, probably. Pete would have told him at some point to facilitate rendezvous away from the protective eyes of the rest of My Chemical Romance.

Mikey held Patrick under his steady gaze, only looking away for a second to set the laptop safely on a nearby counter before sliding into Patrick’s lap in its place. Mikey sat sideways, his right arm slung around Patrick’s left shoulder, and Patrick could smell the drinks on his breath as he raised his face questioningly toward Mikey. Mikey’s eyes were half opened and there was a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He was obviously drunk now as he wobbled back and forth slightly and Patrick instinctively brought his arm up and around the small of Mikey’s back to steady him.

“Hey,” Mikey said in a low voice, his arm tightening slightly around Patrick’s neck. “You’re not s’posed to be on your bus working. You should be having fun.”

Patrick ducked his head slightly, trying to pull away from Mikey’s grasp. “Um, working is fun. For me,” he clarified, studiously keeping his eyes averted. Mikey’s balance wasn’t the best, even with Patrick supporting him, and he wavered back and forth over Patrick’s rounded thigh. Mikey shifted his position, bringing himself in closer to Patrick in order to lean against him.

“Yeah, I know, but you always have your face in that thing,” Mikey countered, kicking his foot halfheartedly in the direction of his laptop. “You need, like, human contact.”

Patrick’s throat felt like it was closing and he nervously attempted to clear it without success. “I have human contact,” he responded, trying to sound casual, but when the words came out it occurred to him that he sounded a bit annoyed.

“No.” Mikey shifted his weight again, the outside of his thigh brushing dangerously close to the front of Patrick’s jeans, and _this is getting to be a bit of a problem,_ Patrick thought. _Is he always this wiggly?_ Patrick figured he was just overly sensitive to the contact and pushed it to the back of his mind. But it was about impossible to ignore when Mikey’s mouth was suddenly next to his ear, warm breath hitting his exposed skin. “No, I think maybe you’re hiding out here because you don’t like me very much.” Mikey pulled back slightly and looked down at Patrick appraisingly.

Patrick wanted to pull his hat down to shield the spread of the flush that had crept onto his cheeks. Instead, he turned his head away from Mikey and sighed heavily. “I never said that,” Patrick grumbled. He pressed his lips together, uncertain as to what else to say.

Mikey pulled away slightly. “You don’t have to,” he stated managing to sound somewhat indifferent. “It’s pretty obvious. The way you ignore me when I’m around, avoid me like plague. I’m not an idiot, Patrick Stump.” Mikey over annunciated Patrick’s last name with a hard ‘p,’ a hint of playfulness in his voice that didn’t match the sad smile he gave. “You don’t like me with Pete. I get it, but--”

“No, it’s not… Look, it’s not what you think, okay?” Patrick protested, shaking his head in frustration.

Mikey raised his eyebrows and nodded like he didn’t believe Patrick. “Not what I think? Because you act like a jealous lover. You’re not in love with Pete?” He remained silent a moment before laughing softly, his hand coming up and pressing against Patrick’s chest. “What, are you in love with _me_?”

He was joking. Patrick knew Mikey was joking, but he went completely still, stopped breathing as his heart pounded in his chest. He felt the color deepen on his face, run down his neck, prick the tops of his ears. He opened his mouth to deny it, to say anything at all, but the words caught in his throat before he could even properly attempt it. Patrick wanted to pull away, run off the bus, but he couldn’t feel his legs anymore. He settled for staring down at Mikey’s hand on his chest.

“Oh,” Mikey said softly, the surprise evident in his voice.

Patrick pursed his lips and breathed fast and deep through his nose. _This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. This isn’t—_

Mikey’s mouth was suddenly against his, pressing a kiss at the corner of Patrick’s lips. Patrick froze for a moment, eyes widening as he tried to process what was happening. Mikey pulled back slightly, raising his eyelids to look at Patrick’s questioning face before pressing his palms to Patrick’s cheeks and kissing him again, full on the mouth. Mikey’s lips were parted slightly and when his tongue brushed against Patrick’s lower lip, Patrick’s jaw dropped open on its own accord. Mikey didn’t hesitate before sliding his tongue into Patrick’s open mouth and Patrick gasped, his body tensing as his mind raced to process what to do.

Mikey tasted of cinnamon and it was distracting. Mikey was distracting. Patrick tried to remember why he shouldn’t be doing this, why it was wrong. _Pete,_ he remembered and started to pull back, but Mikey was clutching the front of his t-shirt and pulling Patrick back in.

Patrick slowly moved his tongue around Mikey’s and he couldn’t stop the moan that materialized in the back of his throat. He was kissing Mikey. _Mikey_ , he repeated in his mind as the confusion began to lift and he focused solely on their kiss. It felt good, really damn good and he didn’t want it to end. Turning his torso to face Mikey better, Patrick brought his free hand to Mikey’s neck, fingers curling around the expanse of skin possessively. Patrick’s head tilted slightly right to deepen the kiss before bringing it back upright, the tips of their noses brushing.

Mikey moaned back, a soft, timid noise and it sent a wave through Patrick. He wanted this and fuck it, _fuck it,_ he was going for it. Patrick slid his hand to the back of Mikey’s neck, his other arm still wrapped securely around Mikey’s waist as he shifted to lean Mikey back onto the couch. Mikey laid back willingly, one leg drifting off the seat to make room for Patrick, who settled between Mikey’s thighs.

Patrick slid his hand out from behind Mikey’s neck, running it over the side of Mikey’s head, smoothing back his hair as he settled down. He was conscious of every place their bodies touched as he was vaguely aware that tonight was the first time he’d ever touched Mikey in any capacity, save for an accidental brush when trying to pass in the narrow bus aisle. Propped up on his forearm, Patrick bobbed his head in and out of each kiss, rocking gently against Mikey who lifted his head to chase Patrick’s mouth.

Patrick felt Mikey’s hand slide under the hem of his t-shirt and settle on his lower back. He felt the heat emanating from where they touched skin to skin and Patrick found himself kissing Mikey deeper, faster. Mikey returned the kiss with the same passion, their jaws working open and closed slightly. A mistimed movement brought their glasses clinking together and Patrick pulled back for a moment to hastily pull his off, dropping them on the floor next to the bench. Mikey blinked up at Patrick as Patrick repositioned himself before removing his own glasses and placing them on the back of the seat.

After staring back down at Mikey a moment, Patrick ducked his head down and pressed a kiss to the side of Mikey’s neck, letting his lips linger for a moment before continuing a line of kisses downward. He was sucking a patch of skin into his mouth when something banged into the side of the bus, followed by the sound of voices nearby.

Patrick clamored backward until he was in a seated position at the far end of the couch, looking at the door in alarm as he panted to catch his breath. His face was flushed, as was his neck and chest. For his part, Mikey laid very still, his eyes wide and uncertain. When no one entered the bus after a moment, Mikey frowned at Patrick and motioned him forward. “Don’t stop,” he said quietly enough that Patrick almost didn’t hear.

Swallowing, Patrick nodded and rose to his feet. “Not here,” he replied, offering a hand to help Mikey up. Mikey accepted the assistance and not letting go of Patrick’s hand, allowed Patrick guide him down the aisle and back to the bunks.

Drawing the curtain back, Patrick let Mikey to climb in the bunk first before following after him. The quarters were cramped, but given the proximity they had just been in, it wasn’t uncomfortable. Mikey laid on his left side, his back against the wall as Patrick laid on his right, facing him. Patrick hastily reached back to pull the curtain closed, the small overhead light illuminating them.

“Hey,” Patrick said quietly, now self conscious after the break in their activities.

Mikey’s lips quirked up in a smile. “Hey,” he replied, sounding amused.

Patrick managed a small smile in return. “Yeah. So.” He drew in a deep breath and opened his mouth to say something when Mikey did them both a favor and kissed Patrick again, his hand going up to switch off the light.

As their tongues slid against each other, Patrick placed one hand on Mikey’s waist and pulled him close. He rolled his hips up slightly over Mikey’s, the friction of their jeans dragging over each other causing Patrick’s mouth to fall open as he sucked in a small breath. Mikey was as aroused as he was, he discovered, and that fact caused an ache in his gut. Mikey made another soft moan in return as he swung his leg over Patrick’s, rocking his hips back in a steady rhythm.

Patrick snaked his hand under Mikey’s shirt, his hand settling on the top of Mikey’s hip. His skin felt preternaturally warm there and Patrick rubbed the pad of his thumb across the line where Mikey’s hipbone jutted out. He pressed his forehead against Mikey’s, their noses aligned next to each other as he concentrated on the sensation of Mikey moving back against him.

“Shit,” Mikey whispered against Patrick’s lips and Patrick dug his fingers into Mikey’s hip slightly as he felt the tension rising in his stomach. Patrick captured Mikey’s lower lip between his own and tugged on it gently before releasing it. Turning his head slightly to form a union between their mouths again, Patrick ran his tongue around Mikey’s.

Mikey brought his hand up to the side of Patrick’s face, his thumb pressing in firmly underneath Patrick’s jawline as they continued their kiss, a small whimper escaping his lips. Patrick knew he wouldn’t last much longer and ran his hand up Mikey’s side, just wanting to feel the smooth skin slide under his palm. The groan he got in response sent shockwaves to his gut and with that, Patrick came, waves of pleasure emanating through him as he continued rocking against Mikey.

Patrick heard Mikey’s gasp in response and felt Mikey’s leg tighten around his as Mikey pulled him close. Mikey shuddered slightly, his mouth falling open against Patrick’s as he exhaled slowly. His body went still, but taunt, a moment before relaxing.

As Mikey unhooked his leg, Patrick let his top arm fall around Mikey, determined to still hold him close. They laid still together, neither speaking for a time. Patrick tried not to think about what this meant, what was happening, how this would affect his relationship with Pete.

“I meant what I said before,” Mikey finally said, breaking the silence. “It was just a summer fling, fun but nothing serious.” He lifted his face to look at Patrick in the small amount of light that filtered into the bunk through a crack in the curtain. His hand trailed lightly up and down Patrick’s back.

“Was?” Patrick asked, his heart racing. “Was meaning ‘is’ or ‘was’ meaning in the past, over and done with? Because it didn’t look like it was over and done with when I saw you guys together a few hours ago,” Patrick replied, wishing it didn’t sound as accusing as it did.

Mikey stared back, his hand stilling. “No. Patrick.” Mikey sighed softly, his eyes going up. “We ended things. When you came up? We were just talking.”

Patrick narrowed his eyes, blinking in confusion. “You… what?” He moved his mouth, trying to find the words he wanted to say. “You what?”

Mikey raised his eyebrows, turning his head slightly. “Ended things? Pete’s still… he’s in love with Jeanae. I knew that. I’m not like in _love_ with him. It was just… something.”

“Oh. That’s. Oh. Okay.” Patrick took a deep breath and began to say something else but shut his mouth abruptly, his face still etched with confusion as he processed this information, the knot in his stomach slowly unraveling. “So you’re not… together. For sure.”

Mikey shook his head, a small smile forming on his lips. “No,” he replied, sounding completely unconcerned with the matter. “I was stopping in here to tell you that you could relax because I wouldn’t be spending the night on your bus anymore. Unless…”

“Yes,” Patrick replied, a firm nod accompanying his words. “Yes, I want you to spend the night.”

Mikey laughed lightly, nodding back. “Okay,” he answered, sounding amused. “But to be honest with you, I’m not really looking for something to just pass the time.”

Patrick lowered his gaze to Mikey’s mouth and then back to his eyes. “And I’m not looking to be Pete.”

“Fair enough,” Mikey replied, his smiled widening.

“Fair enough,” Patrick agreed, matching the smile.


End file.
